My Trainer, My Friend
by A. O. Talmidge
Summary: A Pikachu's trainer was suddenly captured in a forest, and finds some unexpected kindness, and help.


The Pikachu was sore. Sore, from running, from accidentally blundering into bush after bush and other random items, such as random sharp rocks - which were hard to see at the bottom of a slope in the dense forest he had wildly dashed through. From accidentally crashing into seemingly random walls in the small town that that he had come into. From the odd group of trainers in that town that had thrown the rocks at him, that had been battling a team of Hondour, but wanted him out of the way. Just away, far away from when he had last seen his own trainer, his friend.

His trainer had been captured.

"Get away from here! Please! You should not be caught too!" Darren had yelled from inside the large cage, his black hair coming a bit past the bars. Pikachu did not like seeing his friend in there.

They had been exploring the new forest after leaving a small town where he had visited the library for information about Mew. Darren and Pikachu had been sure that they had both seen the small pink Pokémon, and the librarian had said that someone had sighted one near the west side of the forest nearby. Darren had also wanted to find a certain rare yellow moss that his grandfather had told him about, who knew about some legendary tales of both Pokémon and items that seemed quite magical . . . and fun.

They had ended up in a small, shaded clearing.

"Maybe you could look over there," Darren had suggested, pointing to a small leafy area with a small pond and mossy rocks. He himself would look over in another direction. They both had not known about the trap that lay, disguised, overhead.

Before Pikachu had gone across the clearing and was partly hidden by some leaves from behind a bush, there was a rustling from above, and a small black net suddenly materialized in the air. The netting hit Darren, and had instantly held him down on the ground. The startled Pikachu had not taken two steps before thundering steps were heard, and a group of uniformed men came into the clearing . . . and as he sprang, backward, startled, his head hit the hard surface of rock near the spring behind him . . .

Sometime later, the Pikachu groggily sat up. For whatever reason, he was on hard ground near a small spring . . .

_Darren_! His trainer, his friend, was in trouble, he remembered.

He dashed into a deserted clearing, but heard some older human's voices somewhat nearby. He charged toward the sound, but slowed down upon nearing the place where it came from. The Pikachu stopped at the sight. Darren was there, but in a sort of cage, with the humans in front of the iron bars. The iron would be too hard to knaw through, and the space between the bars too narrow to go to his friend. A large truck, its back open, was nearby.

For a small moment, the Pikachu wondered how he would follow the truck if he did not get to Darren before the cage was part into the truck, but shook his head and started to creep toward his friend hidden by the leaves of various bushes. One of the men started toward the front part of the truck, while the others stayed behind. Darren suddenly moved and winced- was he hurt?

The Pikachu suddenly abandoned all caution and ran toward his friend. The men had toward him, Darren had yelled for his Pikachu to leave. _Run away_, _fast_, he had said. _Please_, _just run away . . ._ His other Pokémon had been taken by the men- Team Rocket, he called them.

The Pikachu had stared at his friend, desperately pleading with him, his hands tightly gripping the bars. He did not hesitate anymore, and had ran.

* * *

><p>He was not running anymore, though, as he staggered, then flopped on the ground beside some bushes near house.<p>

He remembered a time when Darren had had to run a long while to get help for his Butterfree. The wings had been torn slightly from a small battle with a ferocious wild Pincer that they had accidentally run into, and many cuts were on the Pokémon. He had picked up his Butterfree as the Pokéball had been cracked in the battle, and with Pikachu behind him, had ran . . . and ran.

He had avoided most obstacles on the ground, but occasionally slipped on some loose rocks, or tree branches. Once, he had fallen against a large rock after he had slipped on some mud. Pikachu saw the small cut on Darren's head through his bangs, but his friend merely shook his head and started to run again.

He had run, amazingly, for quite a while, before coming to a town, and had walked only god a short while, then, had run again. They had made their way into the Pokémon center in good time, and Butterfree had eventually recovered. Nurse Joy had commented that it was good that Darren had made the time that he did.

Darren had been a tireless example of running, and fast. The situation was not the same, as he was running away, not running to somewhere to help a Pokémon, but Darren had kept on going, all the same. The other trainers that had thrown rocks at Pikachu were left behind some time ago, but he still did not really want to trust the humans here, yet, even though they were not in uniform like the ones that captured his friend. It seemed that he should keep on going, somehow, just as his trainer had told him to do.

Was not he a kind of a failure, for just staying here, in an area where he did not know if the humans could be trusted? Yet, the farther he ran, the farther away he was from Darren. Why had he not attacked? The men had been fearless predators, with auras that depicted much experience that could throw off many attempts to thwart anything they did. Yet his thunderbolt could at least stop them, maybe for a little bit to do . . . something. He had not though, and he guiltily gathered up his sore legs underneath him with his ears drooping in exhaustion and shame, and after a while, slept.

* * *

><p>He awoke later to humming.<p>

It sounded quite relaxed and happy, seeming to come from a woman. How strange that he should hear such a sound, in a place like this, after what had happened. The Pikachu winced, as the sharp branches of the bush were pricking his ears. He shifted slightly, then stopped as the branches above him moved slightly. He did not want to be detected by the sound.

The humming continued for a bit, then after small rapid steps on the grass, stopped.

"Over there, my mistress friend. There is something over there. You should see what it is."

The voice was from a Pokemon; a Mr. Mime, in fact. The Pikachu tried to move quickly, but was caught in the low bushes. Why could he not get his tail free?

The Pokemon and the human had been humming had come near while he still struggled underneath the bush came over to him, Mr. Mime trailing a few paces behind her.

"Oh goodness, is that a Pikachu?" the human exclaimed in a worried voice, kneeling down near the bush. Mr. Mime stood near her side.

The woman looked down at the Pikachu, holding out her hand to his tail. He recoiled as the human fingers came near him, and the hand retreated, coming to rest on the human's lap. The Pikachu did not really want to move toward the human and Pokémon, but also did not particularly want to stay, either. His tail was still stuck, though, and he tried to wrench it free, but it stayed firmly in between the branches.

"Oh, I can try to help with that," the woman said, strangely in a kind voice. The Pikachu was not sure as to let her help, but her hand came forward, and swiftly, but gently, held up some branches of the bush enough so that he could pull his tail free. He did so, trying to bolt, but his still-tired legs folded as he tried to run.

"Oh!" the human said, sounding worried again. Mr. Mime shifted his feet a little, saying that him falling was not good.

"Are you hurt?" the woman asked, shifting her position closer to Pikachu. Pikachu moved his paws a small bit, preparing to stand, then looked up. The woman's face held no expression of scorn or any sort of malice, but instead, concern. Her hand finally reached the Pikachu, and touched him . . . with a gentle, friendly touch that reminded him of his trainer's grandfather, who he had lived with along with his trainer long before they had started a Pokémon journey . . . and of Darren himself, his best friend. Was this woman really . . . friendly?

"You poor thing. I think you should come to a Pokémon center right away. They could heal you, you see? She moved her other hand slightly on her lap, to the ground. "I will have to pick you up, now. Is that all right?"

Pikachu stared at the kind face, then nodded slightly. He perhaps could trust this (hopefully always?) kind woman. Was he really going to have such luck, to be with a kind person that could even take him to place to healed? Maybe then, afterward, even, with renewed energy, he could even look for Darren . . .

The woman carefully placed her other hand underneath him, then gently picked him up. He grip was firm enough that she would not let Pikachu be accidently dropped, but was one that was kind.

"My name is Delia, and this is Mr. Mime, who really helps me around here. You going to be just fine. You will see," the woman said, coming inside the house after Mr. Mime opened the door.

She put Pikachu softly on a couch, then disappeared briefly with Mr. Mime into another room, then came back, the Pokémon carrying a box with some blue blankets folded in it. Mr. Mime put the box on the couch, and Delia softly placed Pikachu inside. Pikachu curled up in a soft blanketed box, and the box with him inside was moved into the back of a small car.

"The Pokémon center will help you," Delia said, before closing the door. She then climbed inside the front, while Mr. Mime waved joyfully, then ran back inside the house.

Pikachu curled more into the soft blankets. Perhaps would have such good luck, after all.


End file.
